


Smoke, Verison II

by DameOfNoDelicacy



Series: Saiyuki Inktober 2017, Day 11 - "Smoke" [2]
Category: Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: But Not Much, Cigarettes, M/M, Smoking, intimacy via smoking, kenren is smooth as heck, some touching, this is the military after all y'know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 06:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameOfNoDelicacy/pseuds/DameOfNoDelicacy
Summary: All Tenpou wants is a cigarette.All Kenren wants is to help his friend.That's how it seems at first, anyway.





	Smoke, Verison II

**Author's Note:**

> ...and here's the second version!
> 
> If you're interested, the first (and details about why there are two versions of this fic) can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12427047).
> 
> Also, full disclosure - I’m not a smoker, so, despite my best efforts, I might have gotten a few sensory details wrong here. ~~But I mean the cigarettes are really just vehicles for inevitable sexytimes anyway so really I’m not sure it matters that much hehehe~~
> 
> Thanks for reading, friends! Enjoy!

The second they burst out of the stuffy, stifling conference room, Kenren sticks his arms high in the air, stretching tall, and lets out a great, grateful sigh. “Man,” he says, dropping his arms down to his sides and leaning, hard and heavy, against the wall. “I thought that was never gonna end.”

“Too true,” Tenpou agrees, rolling his neck one way, and then the other, releasing tiny, tension-bred clicks and cracks as he eases his stiff muscles. “I fully understand that the redistribution of resources bears discussing - but for  _fuck’s_ sake, after three hours, you’d think we’d have made more progress - ”

“All thanks to the most high and worthy Li Touten- _sama_ , of course - ”

“Too true again,” Tenpou says darkly. “He should know better than to interfere with matters like this.” He scowls, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat. “It has nothing to do with him. He should learn his place.”

“I figure he’s still falling back on his family’s influence, right?”

“Which,” Tenpou says, “isn’t what it once was. He knows that. And so,” he adds, his voice tight and clipped, “do we.”

“Eh.” Kenren shrugs, and fishes around inside his uniform, searching for his smokes. When he finds them, he pops open the box, clamps one cigarette between his teeth, and draws it out, long and slow. He lights it, and he breathes in, and he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, savoring taste of the tobacco on his tongue. “I don’t feel like thinkin’ about that guy any more than I have to,” he says after he exhales. “Ain’t worth it.”

“Mm,” is all Tenpou says to that.

Kenren shoots a sideways glance at his friend. Tenpou still has his hands crammed in his pockets, and, weirdly, he’s suddenly gone all fidgety. He’s looking down, and even though his face is almost completely hidden by that unkempt hair of his, Kenren can see the way his jaw is working, clenching hard. His glasses have begun to slip down his nose, but he makes no effort whatsoever to push them back into place.

“Yo,” Kenren says, speaking softly, and treading lightly. He’s seen this before; he’s well aware that Tenpou is walking  the dangerous, delicate line between repressing his frustration and snapping into a full-on, full-blown rage. “What’s up?”

Tenpou lets out a snarl of exasperation. “I can’t find my cigarettes.”

“Oh,” Kenren says. He knows what that’s like. Wanting a cigarette and not being able to have one can give a guy a case of blue balls that’s worse than actual blue balls, as far as he’s concerned. “Did you - uh - maybe leave ’em in your other coat or something?”

At that, Tenpou whips his head sideways and pins Kenren with a cruel, unyielding stare. “I don’t  _know_ , Kenren,” he snaps. “If I knew where my cigarettes were, I wouldn’t be looking for them, now, would I?”

That shuts Kenren up pretty quick; it’s just not worth it, the way he sees it, to engage with Tenpou when he’s in one of these moods. At best, he’ll find himself on the receiving end of brutal, unfiltered insults, and at worst, he’ll end up getting his head sliced clean off his shoulders by the greatest katana master this side of Heaven.

Somehow, he doesn’t find either option particularly appealing.

And so, for a hot second, the two stand together in silence. Kenren, unwilling to let a good cigarette go to waste, smokes; Tenpou, unwilling to abandon his desperate quest, quietly rams his hands into his pants pockets. When that proves fruitless - or, Kenren amends, smoke-less - he withdraws his hands, crosses his arms, expels a long, hopeless sigh - one that strikes Kenren as just a  _little_ over-dramatic - and slumps against the wall, ostensibly defeated.

“One fucking cigarette,” Tenpou mutters. “Is that really too much to ask?”

“Y'know,” Kenren says, “if you didn’t hate Hi-Lites so much, I’d offer to let you bum one of mine.”

Tenpou freezes. His eyes flare, bright and hungry, at Kenren’s words. “You mean it?”

“Yeah. Of course I mean it, man. I just - ”

“Give me one.”

“You sure?” Kenren raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to let you have one - I just thought - ”

“I  _said_ , give me a cigarette, Kenren.”

“Okay, okay - if you’re sure - ”

“Don’t,” Tenpou hisses, his voice cold and deadly serious, “make me make that an order.”

Kenren can’t quite help himself; he flashes Tenpou a cheeky smile and, smooth and sly as he can, says, “Yes, sir.”

Before Tenpou, whose lower eyelids have started to twitch thanks to an unfortunate combination of anger and addiction and astigmatism, can respond, Kenren reaches into his jacket and busts out his smokes again. “Here,” he says, making damn sure to keep his tone gentle and earnest; the Field Marshal, he figures, has endured enough torture for one day. “You gotta light, or…?”

“Do you know what? I don’t think I do.” Tenpou’s eyes fall closed, and he laughs weakly.  "I’m a mess, Kenren,“ he sighs, and Kenren finds himself oddly struck by the raw honesty that rings in Tenpou’s words. His eyes drift open again, and this time, when they lock onto Kenren’s, they’re surprisingly soft - they’ve turned a little bit sorry, a little bit sympathetic. And, Kenren sees, a little bit sad, too.

“Hey,” Kenren says. He pulls one cigarette out from his pack and sidling sideways along the wall, closing the distance between himself and Tenpou. “S'okay, man.” He sticks out his hand, offering Tenpou the cigarette.

Tenpou, for his part, only watches. His soft, sorry, sympathetic, sad eyes flicker back and forth behind his glasses, tracing Kenren’s actions with their customary precision, but he makes no move to take the cigarette. He looks kinda dazed, Kenren thinks - it’s as if the trials of the afternoon combined with the force of his recent realization have rendered him immobile, or turned him to some kind of strange, still-breathing stone.

That hits Kenren pretty hard, actually.

All of a sudden, it’s easy for him to see why a guy like Tenpou is always so willing to risk his own ass on the battlefield.

Kenren takes a quick glance left, and then right. “Hey,” he says again, infusing his gravelly, soldier’s voice with as much warmth as he can. “Don’t worry, okay?” And he smiles, hoping that a touch of warmth might show up in his gravelly, soldier’s face, too.

He tries his best to be matter-of-fact about this next part - and it goes pretty well, all things considered. His hand doesn’t shake when he lets it float gently up towards Tenpou’s face. There’s no quintessentially romantic tremble in his fingers when he, deft and quick, coaxes Tenpou’s mouth open with a sweep of his calloused thumb, and there’s no jittery moment of hesitation or uncertainty - not from either of them - when he lays the cigarette between Tenpou’s parted lips. It doesn’t feel awkward when he lights the cigarette for Tenpou, or when he feels Tenpou’s cool, controlled inhale ghost past his fingers, or when he senses the greedy, muscular shifting of Tenpou’s tongue as it tastes the torrid smoke. He even fancies he can feel the quiet power of Tenpou’s lungs, strong and hearty thanks to his many years spent shouting commands over the clamor of battle, when he sends his first long, lovesome stream of smoke drifting fast upwards. It whirls between Kenren’s fingers and makes hot, ashy spirals in the stagnant afternoon air.

Tenpou smokes the whole cigarette like that - with Kenren’s palm pressed just so against his chin, and Kenren’s fingers lingering just so before his lips. Kenren’s own cigarette smolders away, unsmoked and unheeded, in his mouth; somehow, Kenren finds, he doesn’t really care.

“So,” Kenren says, urging Tenpou’s mouth softly open with his thumb again and slowly slipping the butt of the cigarette out from between his lips, “I guess Hi-Lites aren’t as gods-awful as you remembered, huh?”

Tenpou, weary eyes dead closed again, shakes his head. “No,” he says. “No. They’re not.” A brief moment passes, and then Tenpou’s lips quirk into a tiny smile. “And - do you know what, Kenren?”

“Eh?” Kenren cocks his head sideways, intrigued. “What?”

“I believe,” Tenpou says, “it’s for the best that I learned as much.”

“How d'you mean? You got plans to forget your own smokes on a regular basis or something?”

“Hardly.” Tenpou opens his eyes, and, with an effort, pushes himself away from the wall. “I’ll see you in an hour for company drills, General,” he says, turning his back and striding down the corridor, away from Kenren. “Thank you for the cigarette.”

“Yo,” Kenren calls. “Yo, Tenpou - you didn’t answer my question.”

As he walks, Tenpou’s shoulders raise and lower in an easy shrug. “It’s simple,” he says, tossing the words lightly behind him. “I intend to kiss you one day, Kenren. I would hate it very much if I couldn’t tolerate the way you taste.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...also, real quick - I know that I re-used a few turns of phrase in this version. I thought about re-working them, but decided, ultimately, that it wasn't worth it; as far as I'm concerned, Part I and Part II are two different versions of the same story, more or less, so I don't find the occasional overlap in phrasing troublesome. Apologies if that bothers anyone.


End file.
